EVANGELION 2.0: YOU CAN (NOT) ADVANCE Hey guys, next time let's try to cram an ampersand and an em dash into that title, too.


Sixteen years ago, you blew my mind with your crazy robot battles, psychedelic visuals, teen angst, explosions, great music, and just the right amount of fan service. When he created you—in all your anime goodness—your now-legendary director, Hideaki Anno, was battling a deep depression and was fed up with otaku culture, and his inner struggles manifested beautifully on my tiny TV screen.

Then, after cementing yourself as one of the most badass things in my life, now you're willing to risk it all as a tetralogy of reimagined feature-length films based on your original 26 episodes. Already we're at the second of those movies, Evangelion 2.0: You Can (Not) Advance. But I've got to be honest: A lot has changed in 16 years. I was worried that maybe we didn't age together. I was worried that I'd realize we'd grown apart, like that time I thought it would be a good idea to listen to Tricky's Maxinquaye. (Seriously, time did not do that album any favors. Fuck Tricky.)

Now that you've gone and rebuilt your visuals to match today's standards, I was a bit worried that your narrative wouldn't match your shiny new exterior. But Evangelion, after watching you, I feel foolish for doubting you. You rounded out your cast with great new characters. You created awesome new weapons. You've even managed to flesh out the relationships between the characters while weaving together your signature tapestry of what-the-fuck.

Evangelion, you had me at cannibalistic robots being piloted by an innocently perverted little boy being controlled by his father set to Japanese folk music. You didn't need to change, but I'm glad you did. Evangelion, I love you.